While Ziral steps onto and disappears backstage a handful of Yuxu approach Losm and his group while only a few approach the Duxmilla.

"Cavus Milshal, Ziuhk, and Kyreel," an ornately armored male introduces himself along with his two similarly styled compatriots. "We're your armed guards for the duration of the event, which means we're mostly for show. If there's anything you need, feel free to ask us, however mundane. That machine looks similar to the one you brought aboard the Ky clan science wing. That was you, right? I'd hate to have mistaken you for another Losm."

An armored female approaches the Duxmila and nods to her before sitting on her knees in front of her. "Cavus Myrackhal, I'm part of the event's security detail. Are you comfy here, is there anything I can get for you?"

Losm speaks to the ornately armored male. "Yes that was myself and other Acolytes under me. You do not have to worry Cavus Milshal, there is no other Losm currently living. You would not have mistaken them. As to the machine, this machine is similar but is more appropriate for the circumstances." As he speaks the acolytes push one of the boards onto the other are lock them into place before continuing on the top board.

The Duxmilla replies to the armored female. "We are appropriately comfortable. There is nothing we currently need, however we thank you for your concern."

The Kha'ni near the Duxmilla seem interested in the room and the Yuxun, though are very disinterested in the refreshments. The Acolytes seemed focused on the now combined boards, moving various gems and crystals as well as the varied counters.

The lights begin to dim save for a few stage lights that cast a warm orange glow onto the stage. Two robed adult sized figures exit and approach the end of the stage while four child sized ones follow. All of them turn their backs to the audience. They stand motionless for a while, just until the wait starts to become uncomfortable when the lights shut off entirely, bathing the reception hall in darkness. A spotlight snaps on to light the center of the stage where a lone Yuxu with their robed arms folded over their chest.

"Kha'ni!" it bellows accusingly to all present. "Have you come here from across the stars just to dazzle us with your glorified game board...? To share your story before we can share our own? Know that we Yuxu are not a people so easily awed! Our people's history has been fashioned in the chaotic forge of the universe, hammered by unrelenting sandstorms and tempered with the roar of engines and the hail of gunfire."

One of the figures tosses the top half of their robe onto the stage, showing their back tattooed with icons that are trimmed and separated from each other by stylized gusts of wind and sand that flow with the natural patterns of their scales. A smaller, more intense spotlight shines on one icon and the surrounding winds and sands of a verdant green world with white clouds next to a dead world. Just beneath are figures of uniformed and crudely armored figures standing on top of a pile of bodies in a bent and jagged cityscape with torn flags waving above them. The central figure continues to speak, telling the story with his hands and movements as much as his words.

"Our world begins with the exodus of the old. A green and bountiful world cast into the chaos of apocalypse. Where there was food there was barren earth. Where there was water there was salt. Where there were cities with untold millions working as the gears of infinite complex machines there wee only the scattered remains of the dead interposed between twisted metal like unusable slag in the wake of that machine's explosive destruction. In the face of this incomprehensible doom those who were left went mad and hastened the inevitable destruction of others and themselves, others gave up on living at all, having seen everything they knew and loved ended by the uncaring and indifferent universe and their own inept vain attempts to save what they had. And still others persevered through this hardship despite all odds. The same still happens today."

"Assemble enough items in a given set and patterns inevitably emerge, and just as so many tried and failed others inevitably succeeded. Those who triumphed in the face of cataclysm laid the foundations of the clans that exist today on the backs of the dead of both natural and unnatural causes. Dozens, hundreds, and thousands of bands and gangs struggled by picking the bones of what was left and taking the spoils of other's labor. The most successful were the professional warriors of forgotten nations, for their killing instinct was honed to a finer edge than the rest of the softer population and possessed the knowledge to both destroy and create where others could only do one or the other. Every clan is descended from these original seven, having split under... Less than hospitable terms. The scars of this savage and barbaric time are still seen today in the female exclusive clans whose distrust of the male sex is a malignant symptom of a more brutal and barbaric time."

The Kha'ni turn to look at the stage, the Acolytes still moving pieces.

Losm looks upon the performance with interest and listens closely, the Duxmilla has gaze that would be called polite interest at best, condescension at worst.

Losm bobs his head at intervals as if making a note to himself.

The Duxmilla listens, she does not change her posture much, small movements as if passing onto some of her entourage to remember a phrase might be seen, but for the exact purpose of these movements would be unknown. The Duxmilla's entourage is motionless during the Yuxun performance.

The Yuxu in the audience all turn to watch, even the guards. The guard sitting next to the Duxmilla however notes their responses. Sometime during the first part of the performance Ziral rejoins the audience.

The orator stops the performance and walks as far as the stage allows him, spotlight following. He points toward the kha'ni still moving the pieces. "You there, moving back and forth in the shadows. Still yourselves! Is it your wish to return to your homes tell everyone you know and everyone who asks that you spent first contact with our species laboring on a projector? Your time will come... But that time is not now."

The Duxmilla pauses her small movements and looks upon Losm for a reply. The Acolytes continue their work, Losm's expression of interest quickly dissipates as he responds to the orator.

"'For their work to stop, is for their work to be empty, for their work to be empty, is for their waste of resources, for their waste of resources, is for their harm to the good of all.' They would do no such thing. We mean no disrespect, but to stop would mean harm to the collective, that would likely require reappointment of resources, they would not enjoy such. We mean no disrespect, but if one could not continue without our cessation of movement, perhaps one could wait until the task would be finished. If one would find this unacceptable, then actions would have to be taken for reappointment. We hope you understand."

The Duxmilla nods at the conclusion of Losm's words. She pauses as if thinking of something then nods once more. She looks specifically upon Ziral and the Guard before moving her view to the orator in case of a response.

Ziral takes a deep breath before standing with her hands clasped below her waist to perform her diplomatic duties and resolve the dispute. "Pardon the interruption, Priest-Academic-Explorer-Senior Losm, but I feel that we have no frame of reference for your words or your actions. I mean, is your team setting up your presentation? Taking samples from the room? Scanning brainwaves? Setting it up to explode? We have no devices, that I know of, that cannot be stopped in mid-operation outside of factories. What action are you performing and what resources are being wasted? You are our guests. Waste should not concern you for we will provide," she says doing her best to sound reassuring, aware that tone of voice may not transfer between species.

The Duxmilla looks at Ziral as she stands and listens to her words, her eyes turn to look at Losm. Losm turns and replies to Ziral.

"Yes, no, no, no, we are performing set up yes, however it is specific that they enter a code for this event, devised by the Protector with help from the Incarnate. Resources such as the skills and time of the Acolytes, your own time. We would not steal the resources of one who hosts us. Because your people have resources, of people, time and matter, to take such when we have our own to use is paramount to theft."

Ziral stands in silence for a moment as her mind works on the delicate art of infering, interpreting, and translating cultural differences, having to work under the added conditions that her rhetorical questions were answered literally and after she had already forgotten what she had asked.

"My people never offer resources and services without the true intent of giving them and receiving of equal value. You are giving us your company, so we must make you comfortable and at ease. We are sharing an aspect of our ancient culture and history and you are doing the same afterward. Later we will presumably share star charts and hard copies of our mutual histories. There is no taking and wasting of resources, but a series of exchanges. Our hospitality does not only extend to other's leaders, but to their attendants as well. You must understand that while this may be common for you, you are only the second species to come aboard this station and the first that did not pose an immediate military threat. The results of this encounter will go into our history books and field manuals, our art, inventors and designers of every type will draw inspiration. You merely being here gives us so much and we must reciprocate in what ways we can. If the completion of your attendants' tasks makes them comfortable, by all means continue, you are the guests and we want all to personally get as much from this event as possible. Resuming their work will give us more time to exchange words and to bring more experts up from Yuxun."

One such group of experts were already on the station,. A group of shipwrights had taken the opportunity to admire the Kha'nese vessel from obervation windows and video feeds before entering the module it was docked with, hoping for a tour of the interior.

The Acolytes who have been working on the board continue to do so, unphased by much around them. The Duxmilla nods at both of their concluding statements. She says nothing.

At the ship entrance, but still on the ship, stand two Sand Masked Kha'ni, both with rifles and spear-clubs. They notice the group, one takes a sand colored device and fits it over their own mouth. The Sand Masked speaks, but cannot be heard, as they speak they move another device towards one of it's antennae.

She looks from the technicians to the storyteller, then to the Duxmila and shrugs, feeling like all of her words were wasted. She waves off handedly at some support staff in the back of the room "I tried. Cover them with a screen or something." She sits back down while a sheet is brought in and suspended so the storyteller cannot see their constant repetitive movements. All the while he walks across the stage in agitation presumably from being unable to police the event any further than he's had.

The four shipwrights stand outside, two of them bow while another waves.

The Duxmilla returns her view to the storyteller, Losm does the same though he seems less interested than before. The Acolytes continue their work from behind the screen.

At the ship the Sand Masked with the mouth piece continues holding it's weapons while the other Sand Masked makes a bow to the four. They do not say anything, however soon a black Robed Kha'ni with a red band around one of their outer arms arrive. She bows and says.

The thundering of offstage drums heralds the continuation of the storyteller's oration and continue to beat, changing to fit the atmosphere. "As I was saying!" The next few centuries are glossed over as the surviving military units and government institutions struggle to find a place for themselves in the face of a quickly changing environment that then morphed into the current clan structure. And how some of them stay mobile as nomadic sand singers who constantly wander the planet's surface into radioactive dust clouds and sandstorms no one else walks, eternally singing the same song whose lyrics point out their sources of food and water in places no one else would look. How others disperse and operate out of stronghold garages to keep their war machines maintained and how others ride great warbeasts capable of flipping trucks, and how others build great compounds and only move when their wells run dry.

All the while servants move between Losm and the Duxmila offering them melted and filtered comet water while the guards drink from their own canteens. The spotlight continues to shift from individual clustered tattoos to full body artwork depicting specific scenes, the length of the waving trim that borders each tattoo determining how long the orator stays on the subject.

The show winds down with the story of their ruler's ascent to power. Born as an orphan and made into a battle slave in the all female clan of My, Mysha was pressed into combat as soon as she could hold a screwdriver in one hand and the side of a truck with the other. Her early career consisted largely of being lucky enough to not be shot or fallen under the wheels of an enemy vehicle from a missed jump onto an enemy rig. She ascended to Dreamer status through continuing to boast and brag shortly before combat and afterwards, establishing herself as a capable and valuable fighter. She was given the task of training other war orphans and captured outcasts, gradually building her own gang and support of her fellows with plundered gifts. The slave trade that flourished in her ruined city was fueled and made possible by the wars of foreign powers. As she grew she leveraged her growing wealth to acquire an education and to begin experiments into military science by sacking numerous outcast settlements, turning her gang, and eventually her entire clan, into a well drilled and coordinated military machine bent on stripping the city's ruins clean of every piece of scrap and of every healthy body.

Her war for plunder turned to conquest upon allying with a friend, who she eventually betrayed, who was the head of an Outcast scavenger guild, one of many who facilitated trade between the foreign city-states. Their friendship had run deep, Mysha had trained her upon first becoming a Dreamer, another orphan captured to be thrown into the howling jowls of battle, but had survived. The only thing keeping their friendship from running deeper was that she was Outcast and would not take the name of their clan in order to become a Dreamer. Finding each other as the heads of their respective worlds, Mysha poured her combat prowess into wiping out the scavenger guild's competition, slowly taking it over by training and drilling the guild's heavily armed but ill disciplined mercenaries and eventually paying them herself.

Through the necessary rites the few clans in the city became limited partners of Clan My and the rebuilding of the city began by leveraging her business connections through the sole remaining scavenger guild, continuing to feed the outside wars by raiding the clanless Outcasts. Out of the prisoners she kept the cream of the crop for her clan and her partners while feeding the chaff to the outside until the economy was, in her eyes, self sustainable for war. And so a clan of slavers rose from a chaotic ruined city to challenge the world for dominance in the Unification Wars.

All of the shipwrights bow in turn before one speaks "Chief Voidwright Dakala, my associates and I were marveling at your ship from the viewports and were wondering if we could take a walk inside? We've never been this close to a foreign vessel before. The last one that docked was... less than hospitable."

Losm watches the performance with interest once more, the Duxmilla returns to her "polite interest". Losm politely declines when the water is offered, the Duxmilla graciously accepts but seems to only hold it after taking exactly two sips from the container. Interest in the stage performance varies in those surrounding the Duxmilla, suggesting that they may be something more of courtiers rather than servants.

The Duxmilla's interest becomes something more real as the show continues to the life of Mysha. Seeming to make a comment, by some distinct flutters of her robe, to the rest of her group at the eventual efficiency of Mysha's clan, seemingly approvingly.

At the ship, Va'ksh'ka speaks again.

"While I cannot allow you to walk freely on the vessel, I will and can allow you speak with some of the Priest-Practical and Priest-Industrial aboard currently. They are currently in thought pools and would likely welcome new voices. If this does not interest you, then you may continue 'marveling' from the viewports until either we leave or my directives change. This choice is left to yourselves, it is not group exclusive, we will accept singular members' decisions."

As Va'ksh'ka speaks, more Sand Masked show up near the back into the ship, they appear to be directing workers hanging up some sort of cloth between passageways, walls and doors.

Just before the story shifts to Mysha's life the drums begin to beat steady and low. The inkbacks refasten their robes before quietly disappearing back stage, leaving only the orator standing still for one of the few times in his performance. The drums increase in tempo and the spotlight shines on him again. He's still for only the briefest moment before the drums thunder and he tosses the top half of his robe up into the air and boldly steps forward so all can see the intricate scenes tattooed to his own chest and stomach.

Having grown up as a slave, Mysha detested the inheritance of the Dreamer title through succession. To her nepotism was something disastrous, something that ate at the fabric of a clan and tore holes in it like acid and left the underlying gears gummed up and grimy. The most controversial move of her early career, one that only left her and her inner circle intact, was her elimination of direct parentage so that all would have to come up from nothing and prove themselves to the clan Dreamers like she had. Not even her own biological children were exempt as none occupy high government offices while some of her adopted daughters do.

In contrast to the suicidal tasks she had been made to perform, her child soldiers were continuously drilled and taught to work in teams to give them every possible advantage. No expense to ammunition was spared in sharpshooter training, to maximize damage to identify and maximize armor weakpoints and vital organs, trained to be still and fully leverage their smaller profiles with instruction in camouflage, body paint, and to exhaust water rations if need be to apply a coating of local sand until it dries. While they learn literacy in the camp, they are primarily taught small unit tactics through practice through wargames, letting them study war manuals on their own initiative to keep the exercise rooted in competition.

Those that are shown to be more technically inclined than others were sent to hone their talents in garages and workshops, while those who aren't immediately revolted by the sight of blood and organs were made into nurses to assist clan doctors and to patch up the multitude of injuries gained by their peers in the wargames. The more eccentric and otherwise ill-fit and considered useless to others were given to historians like himself to become inkbacks and absorb the clan's histories.

While these practices were nothing new, as many clans had retained the training practices of their military ancestors, Mysha had turned her clan's factory slave training and breaking grounds into a full-time training camp designed to not only ensure the quality of the next generation of Dreamers and Sleepers both, but to shift the ratio of Dreamers to Sleepers in favor of the Dreamer side by curating an environment where passions can be monitored and maintained and not snuffed out.

Before she had achieved total dominion over her initial city, an Outcast runt by the name of Kylen, later adopted and renamed Mylen, was the first of many who journeyed to be taken in by her clan. She, like many others, had been inspired by Mysha's dream to rule the ruins. Her and many others who grew up in the camps are on the short list of replacement candidates should Mysha herself die or retire.

She made a point, at new Dreamers' ascension ceremonies, to give the gifts of a firearm, a melee weapon, armor, and a position in her administration. Those who did not want to be bound in such a way would have to raid or otherwise increase their personal wealth to regift back to her. Today she not only continues to do so, but sends these gifts to every new Dreamer part of the Awakened Clans to ensure their loyalty even if their clan as a whole should ever shift in allegiance.

Despite the prevalence of vehicle iconography all over his body, he scarcely makes any mention of them.

The shipwrights look and shrug to each other before another speaks. "I think we'll take you up on your offer.

Aside from Losm's disappointment of the lack of information about the vehicle iconography, little changes, the Acolytes continue working, the Duxmilla takes another sip from her container.

Va'ksh'ka bows and steps back, gesturing into the ship. The Sand Masked sling their rifles over their shoulders, and moving back to block one corridor, leave open the other that goes in the general direction of Va'ksh'ka's grandiose gesture.

The Sand Masked directing the workers move the workers down the open corridor rather quickly, pulling up any that fall behind the pace they set.

The story shifts to a few key events of the Unification Wars and concludes with why they are called the Awakened Dreaming Clans. "When a Dreamer has fulfilled their purpose, the purpose of their Ascension and the source of all of their resolve they are heightened further. They do not Sleep, they do not Dream, they have Awoken. Ever since there have been neighboring Clans there has been conflict and a desire to test, to kill, to destroy, to dominate the other so the same could not be done to themselves. Every clan's collective Dream has been to end this conflict. And now, united, this collective Dream has been fulfilled. Only time itself will determine if we find a new collective Dream among the cosmos, or drown our miseries without a sense of purpose. Now, after having been educated in our ways, on behalf of our people, I welcome you to Yuxun!"

The music ends and the storyteller bows before the lights come back on and then leaps off the stage to mingle with the rest of the crowd without expectation of applause or recognition from the audience who all collectively rise to resume doing their own thing. Except for Ziral who looks to the Duxmilla. "He ran for a little longer than he said he would, but it was still entertaining."

After the story finishes Losm turns back to supervising the Acolytes. The Duxmilla responds.

"Yes, it was entertaining. Your people are interesting, and similar to mine. Similar but different, for example, what is all this" She gestures to the room and various things attempting to indicate the reception "for?"

She pauses for a moment and rubs her upper arm in thought. "That's a very interesting question. To put it shortly, this is how equals greet each other. I am treating you and your attendants as one of our own, for you are a professional equal of mine. However, you're not truly equal in clan custom for you are not part of one of our clans, as only fellow Dreamers are considered t be equal. Though you are not Yuxu, neither are you an Outcast, for you are not part of our clan system. You're an Other that we have no customs for. This isn't a terse business meeting, but a culture exchange so it made more sense to greet you as my equal instead of an Outcast ripe for exploitation."

"The world outside is harsh so the interior of a clan's compound is comfortable and welcoming. One doesn't make their living on scrap and blood to come home to a scrap lean-to that doesn't protect against the elements, likewise a Dreamer and their entourage does not travel and brave the sands only to arrive as the guest of a compound that cannot even spare a comfortable bed after days of sleeping in a vehicle cab with one eye open. Everyone eho makes such a journey is made as comfortable as possible before they must return home, guests are rare and it's a big event when one announces over the radio that they're making the trip."

"Everything in this room serves two purposes, to give you the respect and hospitality given to one of my own, and to show off the prestige of my position." She motions toward the stage "Entertainment of some kind is always provided, hunts, competitions, access to a library, relaxation in front of transmissions, whatever the personal tastes of the guests. Rarely is it something as elaborate of a full performance from a historian, but it was fitting for this occasion and it shows my reach and wealth of contacts."

She casually motions to the guards in the room. "They are Dreamers, same as me just dressed differently and in a different profession. Their being here is a nessesity should a disaster strike even though they behave as any other guest. Despite their function that is what they are, other guests. With your presumably different biology, the food and drink is mainly for their benefit. The guards who lined our approach, they're also here as personal favors to me," she says with a sly smile.

"Quarters for your accomodation have ahavebeen prepared if your stay is a long one, to be modified to your standards. We are a very personable people. We only make deals with our friends, and so it is my business to show you and Losm that I am worthy of being a friend."

The party moves into the Kha'ni vessel reverently to show respect as they follow. Their scrutinizing eyes take notes of room placement and the location of machinery and vents. "I'm already noticing a great deal of differences in our designs. Would it be appropriate to ask the number of decks this vessel has?"

"In the Dominion we operate differently. We treat those from out the system according to an old code, updated of course, but old dating to times of many states on Kha'to. By following this code, friends treat friends well and fair, associates treat associates well and fair, enemies treat enemies well and fair. No matter what new peoples we meet might be, we will treat them well and fair."

"There is a city, in Kha'to, where there are Kha'ni Workers, Priests, Kha'ni'zan, Baro, Dux, Regem, Imperator, all working for the Protector and the service of foreign diplomats. In this city you might see Kaheshi, Thyaras, Kreazi, Star-Spawn and maybe one day Yuxun. The point being they are all treated well and fair, the maintenance of several rooms filled with various fluids and opposing gases, the creation of foods and other required trappings."

"In the Dominion, if you were sent as Ambassador and Speaker, you would not be Boss Ziral, but Speaker and Ambassador for the Awakened Dreaming Clans. You would not be friend, associate or enemy, but Speaker and Ambassador for the Awakened Dreaming Clans."

"So we would treat others with our code as well, I am not Regem Tch'ref'ka, but the Duxmilla, sent by the Protector himself to determine whether the Awakened Dreaming Clans are friend, associate or enemy. Regem Tch'ref'ka would likely be honored to be friends with one Boss Ziral, however until the determination is made, there is no Regem Tch'ref'ka here. Only the Duxmilla, sent by the Protector himself."

Finishing her little speech, she takes a sip from the container.

Va'ksh'ka responds curtly.

"No."

As they come upon an open doorway there is light shining through. Inside are various Kha'ni in little personal pools of heated sand, they speak to one another and for the most part do not notice the new arrivals. Four pools have been cleared and various workers seem out of place carrying various containers. The Kha'ni in the pools each have racks by by them hung on which are various robes, sashes and bands. At the center of the formation, next to the four cleared pools, is a large Kha'ni speaking loudly and often. On his rack is a robe covered in various pockets, some belts and other tool carrying devices are present as well.

Va'ksh'ka speaks to the four shipwrights. He points to the large Kha'ni at the center.

"There is Priest-Practical-Median Krh'tal'hef. Various others are in there as well but he is the highest ranking. You may speak with them. The pools may be filled with various substances including more solid objects such a cushions or the such. Ask the workers for the appropriate container."

At this he turns and leaves with most of the Sand Masked however two stay by the door.

"If your duty is to assess the entirety of our people, then I wish you the best of luck in meeting us all. But, so long as you are here," she reaches out and touches one of her arms. "To me, you are Regem Tch'ref'ka, as you will be to every person you meet while here. Here there is no difference between ambassadors and friends. Our jobs necessitate that we be friendly with each other. The opposite of diplomacy is business, and we would have never unified if we held guns to each others' heads each time we spoke."

Ziral withdraws from Tch'ref'ka with half a mind to beat her with the water glass to teach her to not mistake her hospitality for weakness. But she suppresses her instinctive resurfaced anger, for the alien does not fully know their ways and probably doesn't feel the same biological emotions either. "No, by all means, proceed."

However, with her attention returned to Losm and his acolytes, she remembers that Losm acted genuinely interested, or at least had the practiced courtesy of a leader. And so she sits and seethes under the surface.

The Acolytes step back clearing space to one side of the board, presumably for the projection. Losm presses in one of the gems and begins to speak. The Duxmilla begins to watch the reactions of the Yuxun, listening to the presentation with the ear of one who has heard the same story many times.

A large view, in full color, holograms appears depicting a Solar system with an asteroid belt, several gas giants and one highlighted inner planet.

"This is the Kha'ro system. Highlighted is the planet Kha'to, Homeworld of the Kha'ni race."

Losm moves several pieces and the view shifts to one of a desert world.

"The First records in Kha'ni history go back to 20,000 years ago, however they are incomplete and fragmentary. The first useful records are around 18,000 years ago, a detailed report of a conquest by a "Dra'vat'to'ksh" translated a "Dra the Greatest World Commander", correlating this report with geographic knowledge we find that his Empire likely existed in this area," Losm moves several pieces and part of the world is highlighted in red. "and other than being able to correlate further records this report's significance is little."

Losm starts moving pieces as he speaks. The surface of the globe begins to rapidly change as many different colored highlighted areas appear, grow, shrink and disappear.

"Over the next 6,000 years technology would advance, and empires would rise and fall. Bronze, Iron, and eventually steel. Around 12,000 years ago basic ballistic weapons using increased gas pressure in a chamber from a rapid combustion reaction to propel a small metal projectile were dominant in warfare. Basic steam engines were attempted though they inevitably failed due to lack of sufficient water surplus. Most water that was accessible was used for agriculture and keeping the general population supplied. So when the experiments failed to produce any large enough benefit to support the cost, they were abandoned."

Losm moves the pieces slower and continues to speak.

"Over the next 1,000 years progress and development slowed, population growth hit a limit and stopped, and empires stagnated."

Suddenly the changes stop. Losm is still moving pieces but in a different pattern. The Duxmilla takes a sip of her water and continues to watch the reactions of the Yuxun.

When the projector starts up, the assembled Yuxu are awed just as the first contact scientists were. That is, except for the resident tattooed historian, who looks unimpressed.

The novelty wanes quickly some of the more paranoid warriors, who suspect the projector to be a distraction for some kind of subterfuge, and jade their minds while most of their peers continue to look on in fascination.

The musicians who played during the historian's performance either find Losm's recitation to be incredibly dry, or are actually inspired and seek to enhance the experience with the pattering of hand drums and a twanging sitar-like instrument. In contrast to the fluctuations of low slow sound that rapidly built up to bombastic crescendos during their previous performance, they play evenly and peacefully to suit the nonchaotic desert of the Kha'ni.

Ziral finds herself studying and committing every detail to memory, however the clinical unembellished facts rapidly degrades the spectacle for her. When the music begins to play she perks up slightly, thankful that she would not be tempted with sleep.

Before the music starts playing the historian, whose own performance directly competes with (and outshines) the kha'ni holograms, to his credit finds no problem with the dryness of the presentation and pays rapt attention to Losm's voice and the details of the aliens' history. The music ruins the academic atmosphere for him and causes his posture to stiffen, which slowly relaxes as it continues on.

Losm moves some pieces and the view switches away from the deserts to a city built into Canyon walls. Losm speaks.

"This is a full hologram reconstruction from pictures and basic video taken at the time."

The city is currently under the effects of a Sandstorm passing over the canyon, the city itself seems to be little effected. A shape emerges out of the storm. A unusually rounded starship is descending, many of the city dwellers points and seem to be talking though no sound is presented. Losm moves pieces and the scene switches to several tall, compared to the Kha'ni in the scene, figures standing off on a platform extended from the ship to a group of assembled Kha'ni. The Group is dressed in what appear to be a sand colored camouflage, form fitting to a degree unlike the modern Kha'ni robes.

"The New Gods made a pact with several Kha'ni Empires uniting them under a Prophet of their choosing, Neu'rak, and providing both water and technical means to the new conglomerate. They not only provided the means to advance in steam engineering, but located several underground reservoirs of water, accessible through newly available steam powered water pumping techniques. They provided this to the other Empires as well as means for combustion later as well as more advancement in other areas. The other Empires refused to join the conglomerate but accepted the gifts of the New Gods."

As Losm moves pieces on the board once more the scene changes back to the world overview, showing the new conglomerate with roughly two fifths of the surface area of the planet.

"Over the next several decades as technological advancement continued tensions mounted between the conglomerate and the other Empires. Eventually resulting in the first Apostate, a pact among the other Empires to oppose the Conglomerate."

The Rest of the globe is filled in with a deep red compared to the Conglomerate's blue.

"With expanding populations, armies and technologies with two unilaterally opposed forces, conflict was bound to start. The New Gods initially stated a stance of neutrality in the conflict. In the inevitable war the Conglomerate, while outnumbered, was initially successful because of advanced technologies and application of of industrial techniques. This changed at the battle of Rek'fe'ka. We have reconstructed holograms of the battle."

As he speaks some of the conglomerate territory expands into the opposing side, slowly expanding as a front line.

Losm moves pieces rapidly on the board and it switches to a top down view of a desert. There can clearly be seen several defensive lines of infantry with various supporting groups. Another group, a large force of infantry, riders of some type of animal and motorized vehicles. As they close, the view switches down near to the ground of the second group. Many Kha'ni can be seen wielding rifles and other such gear. As the battle commences artillery starts to exchange fire and the troops start to prepare to engage the first defensive line. Another few rounds of artillery shells streak in from the enemy. Upon landing they release a massive amount of compressed gas, blanketing the majority of the force, visibility into the cloud is virtually non-existent. After a few tense seconds Kha'ni soldiers start tumbling out of the clouds, bodies covered in chemical burns, stumbling as they are unable to see, soon collapsing. The shells keep tumbling in and the first defensive lines begins to charge to force making a disaster into a complete rout. Soldiers attempt to run, vehicles and animal riding Kha'ni attempt to flee, the first defensive line advances, wearing a form of full body covering and Kha'ni gas mask.

The Duxmilla takes a sip of water.

After lingering on the footage a few moments longer the view returns to the global overview, the small advances on the map rapidly reverse and are pushed into Conglomerate territory. Losm, after being silent during the battle reconstruction speaks again.

"The use of chemical weapons was unexpected, chemical warfare had never been executed in Kha'ni history. They effectively disabled the opposing army's ability to fight. The New Gods did not take a positive view to this development."